


A New Catastrophe

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night is ripe. Written in October 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Catastrophe

It's the way the spells travel, lips to lips, the way magic travels, palm to palm, like thunderstorm, lifeline and powerlines running through their bodies. _Connection_.

They know the hidden corners of the castle like they know their own bodies, dark spots where nothing is seen, nothing is heard; they cheat their guardians and tantalize the soldiers. King and queen leave them be. They are _free_. Firelight like torches illuminate the way wherever they pass, they can turn day into night and night into day. They could live in an endless succession of blue and blue and blue. They use lost strands of moonlight as witness and Merlin thinks Morgana tastes of pale silver and the powder she uses for her cheeks and salty sweet from running around the castle hallways and tunnels, holding to Merlin's hand.

He teaches her how to bolt doors, and how to open doors that are locked, how to spy on others and not be seen, how to be invisible, quiet as a mouse. He teaches her the secrets of fog, fire, wind. The incantations to move objects at will. She is quick, a quick learner and her tongue repeats the spells flawlessly, and her tongue yields under the pressure of Merlin's tongue. Crack of magic, lighting, when he pulls her to his chest, against the darkest wall of Camelot, the most secret corner.

`This is the spell to make night last forever,´ he whispers, tracing the curve of her breast with his thumb.

Morgana wonders if he really is that powerful, this Merlin, this wizard, this her companion and teacher and friends and _Merlin_ \- she bites her lip when he puts his hand between her legs; she mutters his name against his collarbone, gripping thin shoulders for balance. He holds her. He lifts her against the wall, his fingers long and slender slipping one by one into her. Morgana imagines drowning in a green river, full of rotting wood and vegetation, rocks covered by moss. She imagines it would be like this, breathless, caught in mid-breath, not able to exhale or inhale. _Merlin_, she thinks his name and he can hear her, he knows. Her bones ache with power – Merlin smiles, proud, kissing the corner of her mouth and then the line of her jaw. He doesn't answer with her name, _Morgana_, but twists his hand underneath her and makes her shudder. That's the reply she needs from him. He is here, with her, accomplice, inside her, and she needs not to feel alone anymore.

Finally Merlin lets her breath out, a long, mournful gasp, her face buried in his neck.

He holds her in his arms for a moment.

`Merlin,´ she says into his ear with the voice of ancient woods, clear and dangerous water. `Teach me more spells...´


End file.
